Crunch Time
by Little Hairy Eyeball
Summary: Spike hears some thoughts from Buffy. Sort of sequel to Epiphany


TITLE: "Crunch Time"   
AUTHOR: Elise D. (a.k.a LilHairyEyeball)   
FEEDBACK: Gimme gimme. Just be gentle.   
SUMMARY: Spike's POV sequel of sorts to "Epiphany".   
SPOILERS: Spoiler free, do I get a cookie?   
RATING: PG-13.   
DISCLAIMER: Nobody buys me good presents, so I steal other peoples.   
NOTES: I apologize in advance for the use of the word "ministrations" :)

---

When a fella wakes up to the sensation of having his hair rubbed, he usually doesn't want to wake up at all. Feign sleep to prolong the feeling, and the likes, you know? Of course, it's easier said then done, when the hair rubbing is courtesy of a vampire slayer who knows damn well when you're faking it.

"You're faking," she says, with a hint of playfulness in her voice. But she continues with the ministrations, none the less.

This is new for Spike. A simple act of caring. It's very unusual. He does the mental inventory, and can't _feel_ any obvious loss of limbs or movement. He can't feel any foreign objects in his chest, so he's not moments away from turning to dust. So this isn't a pity stroke for the dying man, then? This is something else, something gentle. This is definitely new.

He dares to open an eye, to find his angel looking down on him. A smile playing along the lines on her face, and she seems calm. Almost serene.

"Hey," she says, as if it is the most natural thing in the world, for her to be sitting here.

Again he wonders what's happening. This is the scenario he's dreamed of, so why is it freaking him out so much? With a jolt, he sits upright, involuntarily ending the little petting session. It's a loss he's not happy with, but under the circumstances, he'd rather be on full alert.

"What's going on?" he asks her, the confusion evident on his face. Buffy simply smiles at him, telling him not to worry. Oh yeah, something was going on and he was _not_ happy about it. He may have hoped for a moment like this, but that was a lifetime ago. When they took a sick pleasure in making each other miserable. When he didn't really have her, but could pretend he did, if only for a little while.

He's drawn from his thoughts as she gently guides him back down on the ground, and resumes stroking his hair. Spike is now deathly afraid, for both of them. Was the slayer was going barmy again? Maybe she wasn't really seeing him at all? Too many questions, and he couldn't concentrate when she was touching him like _that_. It's innocent, but intimate. It's bloody disconcerting, is what it is.

"I was thinking," she says, not even looking at him now. So here they sit; the vampire lying on the ground while the slayer strokes his hair and watches the stars. Surrounded by various demon body parts, as if they were nothing but daisies. What a sight they must make.

He wants to question her, but something about the moment screams to him, to keep his mouth shut. He'll only stick his foot right in it, and be kicking himself for weeks. He' better to just sit back and let her get it off her chest. But if she talks about jumping through any bloody portals, he's allowing himself room to rant.

They're silent for a while, as Buffy simply strokes his hair, and he watches her. She's running her fingers through the tiny ringlets that have been released from their gel cell, and Spike is sure he's never felt anything as wonderful.

"Slayer?" he asks, wondering if she's slipping into some freakish case of catatonia. It's a habit she's got, and he really doesn't want to go through anything that traumatic tonight. He's too relaxed.

She looks down at him, pouting slightly.

"Don't call me that, k? Not tonight. You only call me slayer when you're all angry with me. We're not angry tonight, so let's not use angry words?"

Okay then. So, a tree-hugging pod person has replaced her. It's not the bot, although he did consider it for a second. The bot was trashed, and even if Red had saved it, she'd be straddling him right about now, not doing…whatever the hell this is.

"Buffy? Not that this isn't lovely and all, but do you think maybe you could tell me what's going on? World's not ending or anything, right? I'd hate to have slept through it."

She laughs as she looks down on him. A laugh like nothing he's ever heard before, at least not from the Buffy he's known over the past couple of years. It's joy. It's humor. It's light-hearted and free, and the very sound of it makes Spike's undead heart skip a beat.

"No. No world-endage, scouts honor. I just want to enjoy this moment."

She's looking at him again, studying the lines on his face, tracing his cheekbones and eyebrows, as if she's reading him. He hopes she can decipher the words that are burned into his very being. She should know that he still loves her, and that he'll never stop.

Even though she used him, even though she treated him like dirt on her shoe, he loves her. He will always love her. Her spirit, her heart, her everything. He's fully aware that a normal person would scoff at the sentiment, but he's not a normal bloke, is he? He's always been able to look past her problems, and see the light inside. That's what he loves, and he'll always love it, even when she's long gone and he's alone once more.

"I was thinking," she repeats, as if it's important she gets the words out in a certain order. He's fully aware now, that she's got something to get off her chest. So he'll just lie quietly and wait for the big revelation.

"We're a pretty good team, aren't we?" she asks, looking down at him. He nods, but doesn't say a word. She smiles, before letting out a big sigh. Apparently it's important that they're on the same page for this. Spike gets a sudden sense of foreboding. What the hell was she going to tell him? God, he was getting a knot in his stomach. 

"I like patrolling with you," she continues, purposely avoiding looking at him. The knot in his stomach doubles, and he considers the reasons. "I like training with you. I like just hanging out with you. Last year got so messed up, and we could have been doing this…instead of destroying each other, and wasting time."

She pauses to look at him, serious eyes and firm set lips. This was it then? The final blow?

"I don't regret it. What we did? The way we treated each other? It's important that you know that."

Well, lovely. "I'm not sorry I beat you to a bloody pulp, Spike"? "I'm not sorry you attacked me, Spike"? He wishes he could be anywhere but here right now. He's spent months wishing for a way to take it back. He's a vampire, and even he knows what they went through was unhealthy. Yet she's considering it therapy? That's just sick. He knew it before the soul, and he's certain of it now.

She's obviously seen the look of disgust on his face, and the hand begins moving again, softly stroking his forehead.

"I don't regret what happened, because if it hadn't, then things would have been different, yanno? I needed it; to understand myself, to understand you…to understand us. Does that make _any_ sense?"

Her eyes are searching his face, looking for some sort of acceptance in her words. In a way, he does agree. Maybe not to the extreme way it did occur, but yea, things happen for a reason, so he nods. A look of relief floods her face, and she's holding the eye contact now, even as her hand resumes it's travels. 

"I was messed up, and I took it out on you. I'm not trying to shift the blame, or any of my usual stuff, k? I did it, and I know how wrong it was, but if I hadn't have done it; I would never have realized how much I'd lost grip. When you were gone, I had a lot of time. Time to look back on what happened, and understand a few things. It also made me appreciate you. Made me miss you too, even though I didn't show it."

She smiles again, but this time it's a little sheepish, as if she's acknowledging her recent cold behavior towards him. God, he wants to run right now, before she can say anything to kill his spirit. But his sick sense of curiosity has got the better of him once again, and he needs to know where she's going with it. For better, or for worse.

"The end is coming, and I know that things really aren't better left unsaid. I might not have time to tell people things, and none of us really have time to sit around and wait to hear them. No matter how painful they might be, yanno?"

Spike tenses at that last sentence. If she tells him that she's hooking up with Wood and wants his blessing, he's going to go bleeding insane. It's the cruelest thing he can think of at the moment, so he's convincing himself that this is it. The end. It'll never be you Spike. You're beneath her.

She's frowning again, watching the anger and disappointment flicker across his face, so she gently slaps him on the shoulder.

"Oh stop. Just let me finish, okay? You and your brain are a deadly pair. You should know better than to make assumptions." The words are harsh, but when he looks at her again, she's watching him with amusement, as if she's been told the punch line of a joke, and he's been left hanging with the set up.

"The thing is, I had kind of an epiphany tonight, while you were visiting dreamland. It just sort of hit me, and I know it's the truth."

He arches an eyebrow at that one. Okay, she's got his attention now, no interruptions from him. He takes a deep, unneeded breath, and closes his eyes, waiting for the big revelation.

"I'm in love." She states. So bloody simple. His shoulders start to slump in defeat, until he hears the rest of her words.

"With you, you stupid vampire. I'm in love with you."


End file.
